


Saved by a Hare

by arrowsong



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:43:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3197552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowsong/pseuds/arrowsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The curse is broken, and Jefferson asks you to go with him, for moral support, when he goes to get his daughter back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saved by a Hare

**Author's Note:**

> Just a one shot that is part of a larger story featuring Jefferson and the March Hare that will be posted once it's more developed. This one is told in 2nd person POV where the reader is in fact the March Hare ( named March Hase)

A round pale moon hung high in the sky, bathing the ground beneath in a shimmering silver glow.  Stars danced on a blanket of cloudless sky while the crisp autumn chill clung to the air.  Many citizens in the small town of Storybrook, Maine, were out on the streets celebrating the end of Regina’s curse.  There were two however who would not be found in the midst of the festivities.  Instead, high up on a hill near the border of the woods leading out of town, they sat down to a cup of tea.

  
“So you’ll be there tomorrow, when I . . . “ Jefferson asked nervously, loosening the silk cravat wrapped tightly around his neck. It seemed to choke him every time he tried to get the words out.  Freeing his windpipe he stilled his hand, running the backs of his fingers along the smooth edge of the scar spanning his entire neck.  His eyes flickered dangerously as his fingers traced the scar, remembering how he’d come to receive such a nasty mark; you worried he might retreat for a brief second, before he looked over across the table at you.  A hopeful smile tugged at his lips while his eye implored you for assistance.  All clear.

He had to be the only man you knew who wore a cravat in the twenty-first century, but he pulled it off. 

“Are you kidding me?” you laugh, surprised that he even bothered asking.  “Like I would miss it.  Jefferson, you’re finally getting Grace back.”  You smile, lifting the teacup to your lips taking a sip.  Quickly you spat the tea back out into the cup.  “You didn’t drug this did you?” you ask warily, holding the tea in question up for him to see, looking from the tea to the man sitting across from you.  You could never be too careful with him.  He usually didn’t try pulling anything with you, but every now and then he had a bad day. 

Several months had passed since you moved to Storybrook from London, and when Jefferson first walked into your little tea shop over on main street, but the two of you just seemed to click.  Many of the town’s people avoided the eccentric recluse, but you found him oddly charming in his own wonderful way.    
Jefferson took an instant liking to you.  Maybe it was because you were just as odd as him, or maybe it was because you were the first person to actually believe him when he said there was a curse on the town of Storybrooke.  As crazy as it all sounded, you could see it.  Your mother told you that you had a fantastical imagination which often let you see the world in a different way.  Sadly it also meant that most people saw you as being a touch on the eccentric side as well.  But you didn’t let that bother you.  You and Jefferson even turned it into a bit of a game, where you would try to figure out who each character was in the town.  So far you were 32/32.  
“You’re safe,” he chuckled taking a sip from his own cup.  It was nice to see him smile, and laugh.   

“Well I can never be too sure with you,” chuckling you give him a knowing look before taking another sip.  A look of total serenity spreads across your face as you let the tea sit on your sensitive palate before swallowing.  Black tea, with cinnamon, cloves and a hint of coconut, leaves from Indonesia  with spices imported from India – blend thirty seven from your store- steeped for exactly three and a half minutes, half a teaspoon of natural sweetener.  Your favourite, prepared just the way you like it.  Oh, Jefferson really did know you too well. 

“Well I can’t afford to become dull and predictable,” casting a smile in your direction his eyes betray the hint of sadness hidden in the creases of his grin.  “Otherwise you might just up and leave, and that is something we just can’t risk.”

Shaking your head you roll your eyes at his words.  “You and I both know that is not likely to happen. You honestly think I would return to boring old England when Storybrook is so deliciously interesting?”  Digging your keys out of your purse you rest the china cup back on its matching saucer.  Technically the tea set is yours, one of the many from your store, but you decided it was better suited for Jefferson’s home than your own, cramped, dingy, one bedroom flat above your tea shop.  “Make sure you get lots of rest tonight.  Big day tomorrow.” 

“ I don’t see why you insist on this charade. You and I both know there is more than enough room for you here. ” He pleads softly reaching over across the table, pulling the keys from your hand.  “ Spend the night, like you have for the last three weeks, please.”

Every night the two of you engaged in this little tango, and even though you knew how it was going to end.  You still enjoyed just being part of the dance, mostly because you liked hearing him asking you to stay.  In a world where you were accustomed to people trying to be rid of you, it was nice having someone actually wanting you to stay.  In reality you slept here more than you ever did at your own flat.  Honestly, you weren’t sure why you still kept it.  Your room here was nearly twice the size of the entire flat, and here you actually had functioning hot water.

“Oh, alright.” You caved with a grin.  “But one of these nights I really should be going home.  People might start talking,” you raise your brows, voice laced with false concern.  The very notion amusing you greatly.

“The people of Storybrook have been talking from the moment you started ‘associating’ with me, and hell nearly broke loose when they spotted you wearing my shirt in public, two months ago.  That’s the dynamic of living in a small town sweetheart.  Everyone already knows everyone else’s business,” he countered taking another sip from his cup.   Herbal tea with candied mango, dried apples, peaches, and a hint of Tahitian vanilla, leaves imported from England – blend twenty nine- steeped for four minutes, no sweetener. It wasn't his favourite but he needed to sleep tonight - and his usual of black tea with vanilla and various dried tropical fruits would keep him up all night.

“Hmmm,” you muse with a sly smirk.  “Then I suppose one might consider it our civic duty to give them something to talk about.” Dropping the keys back in your bag the two of you continue with your nightly tea.

 

* * *

  
  
Having slipped into a fresh pair of flannel pyjama pants and a cotton tank top, you were just about ready for bed when you caught a glimpse of something through the cracked door.  Groaning, you pout all the way from your room back into the living room.  You were scheduled to be passing out in a warm bed with a down filled pillow in T-minus two minutes where you hoped sweet visions of Captain America would be waiting to greet you in those beautifully beefy sculpted arms of American patriotism, but this took precedence.  Regrettably. 

He was watching them again.  The same way he watched them every night, through the telescope he kept mounted by the large bay windows.  
Coming up behind him you place a gentle hand tentatively on his shoulder, letting him know you were there.    “Come on Jefferson," you whisper, pleading.  “You should at least try to get some sleep.”

Unable, or unwilling, to tear his eyes away from the scene playing through the other end of his scope, one hand reaches back on to his shoulder taking firm hold of yours.  Squeezing you hand his breaths grow ragged and shallow.

Leaning down you rest your head next to his as you wrap your arms around him.  Inhaling, you take in his scent, breathing it in until it fills you up.  The smell of leather mixed with soap, dried tea leaves, and sweet spices of clove and vanilla swirled to create a near intoxicating aroma.  “Tomorrow,” you whisper in to his ear, warm breath tickling his hair.  “She’ll be home again tomorrow.”  You shake his shoulders trying to get him to snap out of his daze before you lose him again. 

Regina’s curse hit Jefferson hardest of anyone in Storybrook.  Everyone else was given the sweet release of forgetting, while he was forced to remember, and it took its toll on him.  It left him broken, a victim of conflicting realities that lay siege to his mind every second of every day and probably would for the rest of his life.  You had let go of it, you had to for your own piece of mind, but you could never forgive her for that. 

A single tear splashes against your cheek.  You notice the red swell of his eyes as more tears threaten to spill over the brims of his eye lids.  Catching a quick glimpse through the telescope you can see the man reading a story to Grace before tucking her into bed and turning out the light.  Looking back you see the brilliance of his blue eyes enhanced by the tenderness caused by his tears, and the darkness that lay beneath. It is a knife to your heart to see him this way.

Gently you push the telescope away from his gaze.  “That’s enough emotional hell for one night,” you sooth.  Standing up you take his hand, and lead him to his bedroom for the night.

 

* * *

  
  
The time had come.  The two of you walked to the bus stop, where Grace would get off before walking home, arms linked.  Passing by numerous people you smile politely at each of them and offer a quick hello.  To Jefferson each hello and friendly face morphed, and twisted until they were screaming at him, shaming him for abandoning his daughter, neglecting his paternal duties – reminding him that he didn’t deserve to have a happy ending.

Yanking his arm away from you he covers both of his ears trying to drown out the voices of self-guilt screaming inside his head. Rocking back and forth on his heels he scrunches his eyes closed.  Quickly he starts whispering to himself, defending his actions to invisible accusers.  

Pulling him out of public view, you throw him into some shrubs and try to get him to snap out of it.  Bringing him back to reality, it was what you were good at.  You barely got his hands off his ears when the last person either of you wanted to see sauntered by.

“Well, well , well, if it isn’t the mad hatter and his little friend?”  Regina greeted.  Eyes flitting to Jefferson, she watched with an amused smile as he fought to return.  “On your way to see someone are you?  I do hope darling Grace can find it in her heart to love you again.  It’s not easy loving someone who has gone mad, you know.”

“Don’t you have some apples to poison, or children’s dreams to destroy?” you snarl.  Grabbing Jefferson by the elbow you drag him as far from the toxic queen as you can.  Yo had a few other names you'd like to call her, none of which were lady like, but you didn't want to upset Jefferson any more than he already was.  

“Is it true?  Am I mad?” he asks so softly it sounds more like a murmur to himself than an actual question once the two of you were far enough away.

Taking hold of his shoulders you force eye contact, blue eyes on blue eyes.  “Yes,” you smile at him.  “But I’ll tell you a little secret my mother told me.” Leaning in close you whisper into his ear, “all the best people are.” Standing back, you offer the most encouraging smile you can muster.  You knew your little secret work when he flashed you an awkward but appreciative smile.  People called you mad all the time, eventually you just learned to let it run off your shoulder.   Running delicate fingers through his strangely tamed, and combed hair you begin to shake it out of its foreign style.  “You look far too mundane; she’s never going to recognize you looking like this.” you complain mussing his hair until its standing up on edge in every which direction again.  Stepping back to admire your work you cock your head before grinning.  Now he looks like the man you fell in love with, your hatter.  “Much better.”

Taking your hand in his, Jefferson squeezes it appreciatively.  The two of your continue to walk past Granny’s, with Jefferson ignoring the patrons and their judgemental gazes.  Instead he chose to focus on you, the feeling of your hand in his, the lilt of your voice as you carried on a conversation from earlier, the sparkle of your wintery eyes, and the fact that you gave him courage. 

Seeing the yellow school bus approaching, Jefferson starts squeezing your hand.  Hard.  Too Hard.  Bone crushing hard.

“Ow, ow, ow. . . hand, hand, hand.” Yelping in pain you try to get his attention.  “You’re breaking my hand,” you hiss.  

He drops your hand quickly, forgetting that he’d been holding the entire time.  Pulling your hand back far from reach you shake it out a couple times.  Damn, he had a firm grip.  Taking a different approach to him you grab hold of his shoulder from behind, chin resting on his shoulder as the two of your watch the kids stream off the stopped bus.

“Now or never,” you whisper excitedly, spotting Grace stepping off.  Panic seizing control, Jefferson remains still, frozen in spot.  

Deciding he could use a friendly nudge, you take action.  Letting go of him, you push him out from your hiding place from behind a nearby telephone pole,as he shoots you a panicked 'what the hell are you doing' look.  Now he is standing in the open, completely vulnerable and terrified.

With bated breath you watch an anxious Jefferson step forward.   _Good_ you think,   _at least he is walking towards her_.  

Quickly darting across the street you continue to watch the reunion.  Figuring he’d want some alone time with his daughter, after nearly thirty years apart, you wanted a head start to hop back to your shop relatively unnoticed.  You just couldn’t miss watching him though, making sure he actually went through with the plan, and didn’t back out at the last minute.

 Taking a few quick breaths and flexing his hands you can practically hear the shaky intake of breath before he calls her name. 

This was it.  The moment of truth.  Heart hammering in your chest, you can only imagine what might be going through Jefferson’s mind. Anxiety fills you as you watch the scene unfold.  For the briefest second time stand still, and you worry Grace hasn't heard him.  Gnawing on your knuckle you mentally will the girl to turn around.  You can't bear to think of how devastated Jefferson will be if this fails.

Blonde hair sails through the air as the young girl with a pink backpack turns, and starts running towards him.  “Papa,” she cries seconds before crashing into his open arms.  Collapsing down on to his knees, you watch as Jefferson holds his daughter tightly in his arms.  Again, tears race down his face, but this time you can’t help but notice how light his azure eyes look.  The darkness was gone. 

A stray tear or two coursed down your cheek as you hop in place, grinning like a fool.  He did it.  He actually did it.  You felt so happy and so light you fear you might float away with a strong breeze.  You had never been so proud of anyone in your entire life.  Quickly you brush the tears away from your eyes as you turn to walk back to your shop and ready yourself for the afternoon rush.  Of course the term rush was being used liberally.  Anything more than three in the store at once was a' rush' in your eyes.

Turning to leave you spot Henry and his grandfather, Charming, the former David Nolan walking towards you.  The two of them were carrying a set of wooden swords in their hands.  You were tempted to ask, but deemed it safer not to.  Besides, you were pretty sure you knew the answer anyways.

“March,” Henry yells out your name, running in your open arms as you greet him with a hug.  Looking over across the street the young boy notices Grace in Jefferson’s arms as he lifts her off the ground.  “He did it?” he asks you excitedly.

“He did it,” you confirm beaming.  “Operation COBRA has officially come to a close.  Happy endings all around.”  You smile looking over at them once again.   
Henry throws his arms around you again in celebration.  Ruffling Henry’s hair you can’t fight the smile on your face.  Henry recruited you for Operation COBRA shortly after you arrived, and confessed to believing in the curse. You liked the kid.  He was sweet.

You greet David once he gets a little bit closer, and you notice for the first time that he is talking with a man you haven’t met yet.  You’d seen him around town before, and knew him by reputation, but had failed to be properly introduced.

“Mr. Gold, I don’t believe we’ve met.”  Bowing your head you extend a hand.  “I’m March.  I own the tea shop over on the main street.”  You explain.  Taking your hand Gold lifts your fingers, brushing them gently with his lips. 

“Pleasure is all mine, dearie.” He smiles warmly at you.  “March, my that’s an unusual name.

“It’s an acronym actually for my full name.  Madeline Annelise Rhys Charlene Hase- March.”  You shrug playfully, smiling.

“Hase, that's German isn't it?” He asks after a moment of contemplation.

“Yes, yes it is.” You nod, equally surprised and impressed.  Not too many people picked up on that.  “Don’t let the accent fool you.  I lived in Aachen and Köln, before moving to London with my mother when I was six,” you wink down at Henry.  “Sprechen Sie Deutsch, Herr Gold?”  It had been so long since anyone recognized your name's origins.  It had been years since you spoke your mother tongue, but the taste was as familiar as your afternoon tea.

  
“Not as much as I use to,” he smiles politely.  “I happen to have a few rare editions of some German books over in my shop.  I’d love for you to come by and take a look at them – it’d be nice to get the properly translated.  I’d pay you for your service of course.” 

“Grace, I’d like you to meet someone very special to me.” Jefferson’s voice behind you catches you by surprise before you could reply to Mr. Gold’s offer.  

Turning around you find him standing behind you.  His eyes red and swollen from crying, they are also smiling brighter than you had ever seen.  The way he looked at you in that moment made your heart want to stop beating and crawl into your throat.  Involuntarily you grinned back at him, so proud that he found the courage needed to go after his happiness.

Crouching down on one knee, so you look her in the eye, you smile at Grace. “Hello Grace.  My name is March.” You smile sweetly at the young girl.  “Your father tells me you like tea parties.”

Grace nodded vigorously.  

“Me too,” you admit with a twinkle.  “In fact, I own a tea shop over on main street.  What do you say to having a tea party, just the three of us?  I happen to have some fresh carrot cake, and Victoria sponges waiting there.   I also happen to have a tea that tastes exactly like candy floss.  Would you like to try it?”

Gasping in excited delight Grace tugged at the sleeve of Jefferson’s long coat.  “Can we papa?” 

“A tea party with both my girls sounds perfect,” he beams at you, blue eyes twinkling.  Waiting for you to stand, he pulls you in close, kissing the side of your head.  Thanking you for everything you’d done for him these past few months.  He never realized how lost he had been until you drove into town in your little beat up Buick.

 Keeping one arm around your waist and pulled in close, he scoops Grace up in his other arm, the three of you head down the street towards your shop.

 

* * *

 

  
“It’s strange to say, but I don’t recognize her. I mean I know March as who she was during the curse, but not from our world,” Hitching his thumbs in his jean pockets, David watched three smiling faces walk down the street.  He had to admit though, March and Jefferson made a good couple.  They seemed to balance each other out.

“You know, neither do I,” Henry admitted after a second’s thought.  “She wasn’t in the book.”

“That’s because she isn’t from the Enchanted Forest,” Gold gave them both a knowing smile.

“You know who she is?”  David asked, scratching the back of his neck, surprised.

“Oh, yes, but what she’s doing here?  Well that, I don’t know. ” Gold rested heavily on his cane.  Looking over he realized that Henry and Charming still had no idea who she was.  “I’m afraid it’s all in the name with this one,” he explained.  “You see Hase in German means rabbit, or. . . ”  Making a tumbling gesture he waited for the answer to dawn on their vacant expressions.

“Hare.” David breathed.  “The March Hare,” David replied quickly, looking down at Henry, astonished.  But how did someone from Wonderland end up in Storybrook?  Wonderland was left untouched by the curse.  Regina had use of Jefferson during the curse, that was the only reason why he made it out of Wonderland.

“Of course she is,” Henry groaned at the realization.  How did he not see it earlier?  It all made so much sense now. 

As his best friend, the March Hare was the only one who could understand the hatter, especially when he was trapped in the deepest recesses of madness, the only one who made the hatter feel like he wasn’t alone, even in Wonderland.  She was his most loyal companion, and best of friend.  

  
She was his true love.


End file.
